


Burn

by tinycanvas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Multi, Multiple times, Other, he's dead in this universe, i had to google how to roll a joint, minor mentions of asriel, papyrus is the firefighter, this will either be taken down within a week or turned into a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 05:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycanvas/pseuds/tinycanvas
Summary: Every so often, Sans, Frisk, and Chara find themselves needing a quiet night. It happens more frequently than any of them would like to admit, no matter which combination of the trio goes up. AU





	Burn

**February 28th, 2:43 AM.**

The night of a new moon.

The sky was black, the faintest pinpricks of stars glittering countless light years away as they reflected through the Earth’s atmosphere and drifting wisps of cloud within.

They sat on the very edge of the skyscraper, legs dangling off the edge, the city stretching out for countless miles both ahead of and below them. Too far ahead to see, where the suburbs ended and the forest began, the land would stretch on into rivers and forests, out over the horizon and eventually to the surface of the ocean itself. From there, the view would circle all  around the world itself, over mountains and jungles and deserts, over unreachable peaks of land and sky, until it hit their very backs once more.

“Almost feels like it’s ours, y’know?”

Long fingers, coarse and calloused and nearly as dark as the night itself, held the joint to dry lips. He took a deep breath, slowly allowing his lungs to expand to their fullest. Held it for just a moment. Pulled away the joint and handed it to Frisk, lips curving into a small “o” shape as he blew. The smoke billowed out, vanishing within instants as it rose. Beside him, Frisk mimicked his movements, their free hand curled protectively around the faint glow as it burned.

Within the city, miles below them and somewhere just out of reach, would be their homes. From where they sat from so far above, lights glittered endlessly over the horizon, shining through glass and streetlamps. Poets and insomniacs, parents working late, children up reading or maybe even kids like them, brought to life as the stars shone far, far above.

“Yeah. It does.” Quiet, raw. They liked to pretend that it didn’t exist, that it had never happened, but the proof was always there. It was far more soft than usual, though. Mellowed by the night and the smoke weaving through their lungs. Only a bit. Just enough to take away the edge. Frisk passed it on, Chara carelessly taking it between two fingers and pressing it gently between the very edges of pale lips. Theirs were far different, thin and smooth-- his own were far larger, split and cracked all along. Latching onto one of the peels with the edges of his teeth, he pried it away, noting just how easily skin pulled off when dead. Chara would know, too. Their nails were near nonexistent, the skin around the tips of their fingers raw and bitten down to less than stubs.

Frisk didn’t often show signs, but he knew. Their lips and nails, barely, but their inside of their mouth was a whole different story. Those two were younger, too. Talk about screwed up.

He accepted the joint once more as it circled, finishing it off. Minutes passed as the effects set in, the only sound the faint whirring of cars as they passed below.

The ruffling of a coat. Frisk took out another, holding it gently between their lips as they reached back into the pockets for their lighter. It was silver and black, the metal smooth and soft. They flicked it open, clicking it once, twice. The flame flickered, sparking to life between their own hands. They stared for a moment, expression unreadable, before taking it on one hand and reaching up for the joint with another. Took a breath even as they lit it, eyes seeming to glaze over. Chara didn’t argue as they handed it over.

It had happened in March, he recalled distinctly. The screaming echoed in his mind, salvation held between his lips. The faint glow of flame. A long, deep breath. A moment. Another. Release.

“This is real fucked up, this thing we have.”

His words were met with more crickets. Frisk was silent. They always were. Even at fourteen, only three years younger than himself, they hadn’t spoken a word. Chara was different, if barely. Only two years younger than him, and thought it wasn’t much, they still talked.

His mom used to talk about them, when they were little. Their constant gibberish, giggling and babbling. The incident hadn’t even been two years ago-- not yet. No one could blame them for their silence.

He himself was just as bad, in a sense. Always grinning, always making a joke out of things never to be spoken of. Not now. Not tonight. Tonight, his smile was nonexistent, his eyes dull and tired. He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. Frisk still had their legs over the edge, leaning close to it. He already knew that they wouldn’t fall. Chara took no chances, sitting a few inches behind the ledge, legs crossed over one another. Their gaze was distant.

It seemed that all three of them were thinking of it.

Had things been different, all four could be watching the stars.

“S’been a while, hasn’t it?” Frisk tapped his shoulder. He sat up, instinctively lifting his arm as they scooted closer, his hand draping around their shoulder as they rested their head against his. Chara had the joint, then, he and them slowly bringing it to an end.

“I’m glad you don’t do it anymore.”

“No.” They took a slow breath, handing it to him. Minutes passed before they spoke again. “I still think. A lot. Not as bad, now, though.”

He gave a hum of agreement as Frisk snuggled closer. “Yeah. It’s better, now that you know you didn’t really mean it. Not that you didn’t o’course, but still.” Their father had been a soft-spoken man, a diligent worker. Their mother, nerves of steel, a natural born leader with a soft spot for the children.

Their brother. One of Frisk’s closest friends, aside from Chara themselves. Always laughing, far too kind for his own good. Chara would constantly prank him, though they comforted him even more often, sensitive as he was.

“I do not regret it. I should not have made him do it. But. That does not change my mind.” Before he himself could speak, Frisk shifted, wriggling out of his hold and laying sideways. Their head was in Chara’s lap as they tucked their legs in, folding their hands across their chest with closed eyes.

Chara was quiet for a few moments, gently running their fingers through Frisk’s hair. He held the joint over the edge, hardly burnt. Neither of them were willing to go further. They knew their limits. As a breeze picked up, the flame flickered, brightened. He tossed it behind him, knowing that it would burn out with ease on the gravel rooftop.

He couldn’t quite tell how long the silence lasted. Chara was braiding little strands of Frisk’s hair with abnormal accuracy, Frisk having rearranged themselves to be in a more comfortable position with their head still in their closest friend’s lap. He himself sat on the ledge of the roof, leaning forward with his hands wrapped around the edge and his gaze fixed on the ground below.

He shifted his balance, bringing one arm up.

Checked his watch. 3:27.

He really couldn’t appreciate nights like these enough.

* * *

 

When Sans woke, there were two things that he immediately noticed. First, that some sort of light was shining directly into his eyes, which was extremely uncomfortable and needed to stop immediately. The second was that he had the strangest craving for some sort of food, though he couldn’t quite place just what.

His third thought had something to do with the fact that he absolutely did not want to be awake right then. With that in mind, he rolled over, shielding his poor old eyes from the wretched light and hiding his face his pillow.

In his... pillow.

He distinctly remembered falling asleep on a rooftop.

Which was extremely strange, and should have immediately roused suspicions, except...

His pillow was very soft. He really didn’t have the motive to question the change in location. Not just then, at least. It was nice and cool and there was some sort of blanket, so really, for as long as he remained tired, he wasn’t going to bother moving.

He wasn’t going to bother moving, until something hard prodded his arm. He groaned in protest, but it happened again. A moment passed. Two hands shook his arm, trying once more to wake him. Putting all of his effort into doing absolutely nothing, Sans thought he’d won as an exasperated sigh sounded somewhere above him. The shifting and scraping of gravel. Silence.

Without warning, his pillow was yanked out from under him, the unexpected movement and loss of support causing his head to slam down onto the layer of loose gravel below. His eyes immediately shoot open as he pushed himself up off the ground, a tight grin forming as he glared. Crimson eyes held his gaze, expression unwavering as he reached a hand up to the back of his head, the other propping him up.

“That isn’t very nice, y’know. And here I thought you were workin’ on it.” Chara rolled their eyes, arms crossed even as they stood up and headed to another part of the roof. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sans shifted once more, sitting upright as he glanced around.

They were still on the roof, but he himself was in a sleeping bag, his pillow laying a few feet behind him now that Chara had pulled it away. Chara themselves seemed to have had a similar setup, though their sleeping bag was rolled up with their pillow leaning against it. Figured. They’d always been an early riser. Frisk was asleep a bit further from them, on nothing more than a single blanket. His grin almost faltered. They must’ve been the one to bring everything, and to make sure he and Chara slept well. They’d never been good at thinking of themselves.

Chara was back, suddenly, and with them was a brown paper bag that promptly flew through the air to meet his face. He just barely managed to catch it, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. He was about to ask what the hell the big deal was when he realized the bag was warm.

There was no hesitation as he fumbled with the top, eventually opening it to reveal what must be at _least_ a double order of fries, layered with countless packets of ketchup, unopened and all. He glanced down at his watch. 4:50 AM. Still a good 40 minutes until work-- plenty of time to eat and still get there early. He glanced up.

Chara, arms crossed, smirked down at him. He grinned.

“Appreciate it, bud. Want me t’get Frisk?” Their smirk fell as they shook their head, arms lowering to their sides. He understood. All three had a strange sort of relationship, but Chara always seemed to be more comfortable without him around. He’d have been lying if he didn’t say he felt the same way.

“Welp, guess I’ll head out. Seeya later, kid.” Leaving everything but the fries, his jacket still draped over Frisk, Sans turned towards the stairwell and didn’t look back.

Chara waited until they knew he was gone to head back over to Frisk. They were sound asleep, chest faintly rising and falling, mouth parted ever so slightly. They sat down beside them, crossing their legs. The sun still hadn’t fully risen, and Frisk needed far more sleep than they did.

The morning was peaceful. It was more than they ever could have asked for, and yet, it was not nearly enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so much lang work im behind on please help me


End file.
